


Tingo

by archangelwithashotgun



Series: Tumblr Prompts [49]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean is a Sweetheart, Eventual Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fluff, M/M, One Word Prompts, Pre-Slash, Shy Castiel, Tingo, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 15:14:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6912430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archangelwithashotgun/pseuds/archangelwithashotgun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tingo (Pascuense): the act of taking objects one desires from the house of a friend by gradually borrowing all of them.</p>
<p>Castiel realizes that barely anything in his room belongs to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tingo

It all began when Dean let Castiel borrow a hoodie when his dress-shirt was ripped to shreds during a hunt.

They didn’t think much of it; it was just a friend lending something to a friend in need, right?

But a week passed afterward, and Dean had yet to ask for his hoodie. Then the week turned into a month, and though Castiel saw the hoodie hanging in his closet every passing day when he got dressed, he started to forget that it wasn’t his. He even began to frequently wear it when the Bunker grew chillier than usual, and Dean said nothing.

When Castiel started having problems waking up, rising too early or too late in the day, Dean let him borrow his radio-alarm and set it so that it would ring at 7:30 every morning. The first morning Castiel used it, he woke up to classic rock melodically pulsing from the radio. For days, weeks, months afterward, Castiel would wake up to the same radio station set to the music that reminded him of Dean, and found that he soon could not wake up any other way.

It wasn’t until it was roughly three months after the first exchange that Castiel looked around his room in the Bunker and gave a violent start.

It wasn’t much, but with the exception of the bedcovers and the bed, the selection of books on his desk, most of the clothes in his closet, and the furniture… everything in Castiel’s room was borrowed from Dean.

The hoodie was still hanging in his closet, along with a variety of different t-shirts Dean had let him borrow over the weeks after the hunter commented on the excess formalwear in Castiel’s wardrobe.

The radio-alarm was still resting on his nightstand, gathering a light layer of dust with every passing morning. It wasn’t only in the mornings that it sounded; occasionally Castiel would lay on his bed with a novel or a book of lore, the classical rock station playing softly in the background.

There was a flask leaning against a row of standing books on his bookshelf, Dean having lent it to him one rough night after a horrible hunt.

One of Dean’s sawed-off shotguns was lying on the desk surface, gleaming from a fresh polishing that Castiel had done himself.

Dean’s iPod was on top of Castiel’s bedcovers, Dean’s headphones coiled loosely around the device.

Dean’s leather jacket was draped over Castiel’s desk chair.

Dean’s bottle of cologne was sitting, half-empty, on the desk beside the shotgun.

Dean’s spare duffle was sitting on the floor of Castiel’s closet, ready for when they went out-of-state for a hunt.

Everywhere in Castiel’s room, everywhere he looked, there was _Dean_.

Castiel had been so absorbed in how comfortable and how _at home_ he felt in his room that he never considered the question of _why_ that might be. The answer was all around him.

“Hey Cas, I was gonna – Hey. You okay? You freakin’ out or something?”

Castiel jumped in surprise at Dean’s sudden arrival in his doorway and twisted around to face him. A light frown marred the hunter’s features, and Dean slowly stepped into the room toward Castiel, still twirling his car keys around his index finger.

“Yes,” Castiel answered promptly before his eyes widened, rushing to correct himself as Dean’s brows lifted. “I mean, uh, no, I just…” Castiel paused, and sighed. The angel gestured at the space around him. “I just noticed that… nothing in my room is truly mine. They’re all your possessions.”

Dean’s frown deepened in consideration, and Dean took a glance around the room. Upon seeing that Castiel was correct, Dean’s brows raised and his frown smoothed over. “Huh. I didn’t even really notice that you kept them, to be honest.”

“I forgot that they were not mind to keep,” Castiel admitted, dipping his head in light shame. “You-You should take them back.”

“Cas.”

Castiel glanced back up again. “Dean?”

Dean was smiling fondly at him, spinning the keychain around his finger once more. Dean shook his head, and said, “Cas, don’t worry about it, okay? Serious. It’s clear you take great care of them—“ Dean pointed toward the shotgun as an example “—about just as well as I did. They’re yours, okay? You can start thinking of them as yours. I trust you with them.”

Castiel paused at those words, letting them sink in. And gradually, a slow grin began to spread across Castiel’s face, Dean’s smile unconsciously growing at the sight of it.

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel beamed.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome,” Dean answered, dismissing the thanks with a wave, though Castiel noted a light pink tint to Dean’s cheeks. “So, listen, uh. I was going to go out and get some burgers. I’m _starved_ , man. Wanna come with?”

Castiel’s beam dimmed to a warm smile, and he nodded. “I’d be happy to accompany you.”

“Great, let’s go,” Dean beckoned, jerking his head toward the door.

Castiel quickly walked over to the desk chair, grabbing Dean’s – his – leather jacket and shrugging it on before rejoining Dean. The hunter gazed approvingly at the attire on Castiel and threw an arm over Castiel’s shoulders, leading him out of the room.

Three weeks later would find Dean’s – Castiel’s – belongings making their way back into Dean’s room.

Well, once the angel properly moved in and all.


End file.
